


Breathing Ashes

by sadtunes



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: ..sort of, Angst, Character Study, F/F, Michael Burnham Needs a Hug, Mirror Philippa Georgiou Needs a Hug, Sorry Not Sorry, i feel like i should mention, it's very..angsty, more like an introspection, no beta we die like natasha in endgame, no happy ending, s03e10 Terra Firma Part 2, the milippa is less milippa and more just endless pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29932026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadtunes/pseuds/sadtunes
Summary: He tells her this is her second chance and the path ahead of her will not be easy and there’s a sense of something bitter, something too good to be true, so she asks-“Can Michael come with me?”-and pretends she doesn't already know the answer.“Michael Burnham is exactly where she needs to be.” He responds, and Philippa doesn’t think about the fact that maybe all she has ever needed, was to be with Michael.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Mirror Philippa Georgiou
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	Breathing Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayBeBrilliant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayBeBrilliant/gifts), [Sanctuaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctuaria/gifts).



> This is my first work in this fandom i literally have no choice but to gift it to the people that dragged me into the ~~cult~~ sauce. So. Hope you guys like it.
> 
> Based of the scene in 3x10, Terra Firma Part 2

Philippa does not want to die.

She has never wanted to die. Not back in the Terran Universe where living and dying were one and the same, where the line between the two was almost nonexistent, where death was almost _revered._ Not in the past, where death hanged like clouds of rain always waiting, waiting, and everyone chose instead to look at the sun. And not now, as every cell in her body fights to travel across all of time and space, as every iota of her being fights to _leave_.

It’s only fair, she thinks, that her body wants to go down fighting. She’s always assumed she would die some day in battle, even longed for it herself, once. She never thought she’d die fighting against the laws of _nature_.

Philippa has never wanted to die, in truth.

But this is the first time she has ever fought to _live_.

_____

He tells her this is her second chance and the path ahead of her will not be easy and there’s a sense of something bitter, something too good to be true, so she asks-

_“Can Michael come with me?”_

-and pretends she doesn't already know the answer.

_“Michael Burnham is exactly where she needs to be.”_ He responds, and Philippa doesn’t think about the fact that maybe all _she_ has ever needed, was to be with Michael.

_____

The Terran Universe was like fire. Wild, unpredictable and always _burning_. 

_____

She has never been one for sentimentality. 

There is no place for tears in a world where showing weakness is inexpedient, to say the least; no place for love in a hate fuelled war. 

She doesn’t say goodbyes, doesn’t turn around for last glances, doesn’t speak any other language than snappy insults.

She never could.

She wasn’t broken, she didn’t need to be _fixed_ ; it’s something like not knowing what you're missing until you’ve found it, and there was something empty in her, even as she ruled empires and ravaged her way through life.

(Even then, she saw a young soul aged up in an instant, lying in rubble and looking like she might _thrive_ in chaos if Philippa taught her how.)

(Even then, Philippa dreams of never ending fields of fireflies, glowing, gleaming.)

_____

The Prime Universe was like oceans of water. Powerful, erratic, and _still_ all the same.

(There was a certain peace in letting the waves wash her anew.)

(Still, she will always love the smell of smoke, of ashes floating to the ground, imperceptible.)

_____

She has never been one for sentimentality, and yet, now, she makes an exception.

Michael is standing there, eyes teary and a brilliant, blazing shade of brown. Michael is standing there, her heart bared out and open in a way she’d never taught her mirror counterpart, sincerity laced into her words, unlike the Michael who _lied and lied and lied_ with the fluidity of an honest person, unlike the Michael who _plunged a knife_ into-

(She isn’t sure when she stopped referring to that Michael as _hers_.)

(Perhaps as she lay in a pool of her own blood, the fluid seeping into her hair, the smell metallic and vivid and far too _familiar_.)

_This_ Michael- _her_ Michael is standing there, more beautiful than she’s ever been, even as the tears threaten to fall. She has a soft, sorrowful smile as her lips mouth words Philippa never knew she wanted to hear.

_“You are my Philippa”_

And there’s something raw, something aching, something _vulnerable_ in the way Michael utters her name and all she can do is say it back, just as soft, just as silent, just as intent.

(There are words they aren’t saying, words left hanging in the balance, she can feel them in the air, waiting.)

(Some things are better left unspoken.)

_____

She gasps minutely as Michael reaches for her, pulling her into an embrace. It’s been a long, long time since she was last hugged. Michael is impossibly warm in her arms, their cheeks just barely pressed together. She can almost feel the steady beat of her heart through their thick coats, can almost smell her perfume even as all her senses scream _cold cold cold._

She gasps minutely, because she’s never been hugged this way before; grasping and urgent and fingers pressing into the sides of her back. 

Michael pulls back, their foreheads pressed together, and gives a small smile. A hand reaches out and cradles her face and the notion is unfamiliar, and yet it feels like _home_ . The weight of Michael’s gaze settles over her- _this is goodbye this is goodbye this is goodbye-_ there’s a fire burning in her eyes and Philippa can almost taste the ashes.

(She thinks of leaning forward and tasting them with her own lips but it’s best not to give hope in which there is none, it’s best not to tease at which you will never have.)

(It was nice to dream though, for a moment.)

_____

She would never admit it, but in that moment, where the portal is humming in the background, and the cold is biting at her nose, and with every step away from Michael her very soul _begs_ to stay. In that single instance, Philippa considers letting herself die, if only to spend the rest of her life with Michael, if only to say she had passed in her arms. 

The last thing she wants to do is _leave_ Michael, but there are no good options. There is no universe in which they have a happy ending.

(Fate is cruel that way; it watches them bleed and burn, it teaches them life and love, gives us happiness so we can _feel_ what we're missing and then tears them apart and laughs and laughs with Time at her side.)

Instead, Philippa forces her feet to keep walking, if only to spare Michael that burden, if only because Michael might not survive the grief of watching her die.

She keeps walking, if only because she isn’t sure she has the strength to see her Michael’s face once more, and not want to rush into her arms, and never, ever let her go.

She keeps walking, if only because her heart is on _fire_ \- and she wishes they had time to dance in the flames.

Philippa breathes in the ashes of their love, burned out before it ever became _something,_ and prays Michael can’t see that she’s _choking_.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to point out that Kat cried watching this scene and I did not.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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